Final Goodbye
by Moony3003
Summary: Dean receives a phone call he never thought he would get.


**Disclaimer:** Supernatural does not belong to me.

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A/N: After rewatching Supernatural from the beginning last week, this idea popped into my head and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it.

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Final Goodbye

The rain outside pelted heavily against the roof and windows, making it sound loud in an otherwise quiet room. The tall figure on the bed remained hunched over an open laptop, the white light shining off the screen, making the profound lines in the young face all too clear.

The passing of a shadow overhead did little to stir him as his attention remained fixed, missing his brother's movement towards the other side of the room. Dean stood at the window, the ratted curtain pulled to one side and his forearm resting against the fogging glass. He glared outside as though the rain were somehow a curse meant for him.

This was the third day in a row that it had rained non-stop and it showed no signs of letting up. Right now, the heavens were open and Dean was desperately seeking the permanent off button. The frustration rose to the surface and Dean's head landed on his arms, his next words coming out in harsh mutters, most of it unintelligible.

Sam huffed a chuckle in response to his brother's actions and went back to his research. "You know it's not acid rain, Dean. You can go outside. Don't forget your gumboots."

Dean sighed heavily, his breath fogging the window even further, making it almost impossible to see through. But it didn't matter as he turned away in annoyance, giving his younger brother a look as though it were now his fault.

"So funny, Sam. Have you found another hunt while you're making snarky remarks?" he asked, moodily, heading back towards the kitchen for a third beer.

"Not yet," replied Sam as Dean sat on his own bed, throwing the beer top away. "You could help though. We've still got newspapers from the last couple of days that I haven't had the chance to look through yet."

"I already flipped through them," informed Dean, taking a swig. "I even called Dad and left a couple of messages, but nothing."

Sam's hazel eyes left the laptop and focused on Dean's tired face. Deep down he wondered how thoroughly Dean had actually read through the papers but that wasn't the current through at the front of his mind.

"Not surprising," muttered Sam, looking back down.

Dean's head turned sharply as he looked at Sam, his features hardening. "Easy, Sammy," muttered Dean warningly. "Tell me something. What are you researching if there's no hunt?"

"Got to be prepared for anything," said Sam, shrugging. "I'm just trying to learn as much as I can, that's all."

Dean's reply lingered on the tip of his tongue but not wanting to prolong the useless conversation he dropped the matter and within a few short minutes, Dean had finished off his beet and laid flat on his bed, his eyes closed, boredom willing him to sleep. Images of their last hunt swam through his mind. Even now he could feel the hot breath on his face from the inbreeding rednecks that had kidnapped Sam.

"Dean."

The hunt had been a little more than disturbing. From a young age Dean had somehow assumed that monsters were only supernatural beings that lived in shadows and hid among the human population. But the last hunt had proved him wrong. It wasn't only supernatural creatures that were dangerous and that alone was a scary thought.

"Dean!"

The voice was much louder the second time and Dean sighed inwardly. "What?" he asked, sitting up, rubbing his eyes.

"Your phone's ringing, man," answered Sam, voice now soft again. "It's in your duffel."

Now Dean could hear it. The familiar rock tone filled his ears, making him feel suddenly nervous about who was calling him at this hour. But by the time he opened his bag, the ringing had stopped but he still searched and when he located it, he opened it quickly and found an unknown number. He felt his heart beat a little quicker at the knowledge. It could have been his father.

The phone rang again, making Dean jump and almost causing him to lose grip on the small, shiny object. Looking at the screen again he felt the same sensation travel through him at the same unknown number that stared up at him.

"Hello?" he asked unsurely.

The voice that answered made Dean's mouth and throat quickly turned stone dry and he felt his fingers shake with the pressure of holding his phone and his composure along with it. Turning away from Sam's watchful eyes, Dean wrote down the address given before hanging up. Dean then dropped the phone onto the bed carelessly and brought the notepad he'd written on close to his face.

Patiently, Sam watched on, waiting to hear who had been on the phone. But Dean's silence only worried him. "Dean?" he asked quietly.

"Pack up," said Dean after another moment's silence. "We're going to Nebraska."

"What? Why? Who was on the phone?"

"A friend," said Dean, moving to his duffel bag. Without folding or much care, Dean began stuffing his clothing inside.

"It's a couple days drive, Dean. We-"

"We don't have a couple days, Sam," said Dean pointedly, stuffing the last item into the duffel.

Abandoning his research, Sam stood up from his bed and walked towards Dean who seemed to ignore his presence. "Who was on the phone?"

Dean turned away and went into the bathroom to retrieve the few small items he had in there. When he returned, Sam was still in the same spot with the same questioning expression. "Dean, what's happened?"

Abruptly, Dean stopped packing, letting his toothbrush fall from his grasp to land on the bed lightly. "Layla's dead," said Dean, shortening what he had originally intended to say. Without waiting another moment, Dean moved the duffel to beside the door and checked to see if everything else was in order.

It seemed to take a few seconds for Sam to remember who Dean was talking about and it registered on his face when he did. "Dean, I'm-"

"Just pack your crap and let's go, Sam," muttered Dean as he headed for the door, not wanting to hear the rest of his brother's sentence.

Sam watched as Dean left the motel room, duffel and phone in hand. The squeaking of the Impala's doors soon reached him and Sam sighed before packing his own stuff as quickly as he could. This wasn't something he was going to argue against.

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The bad weather followed them from Westcliffe, Colorado, all the way to Bellevue, Nebraska. The dark and stormy clouds had the same depressing feeling to them as though they were a sign, representing the same thing; death.

The long drive was quicker than it ought to have been but Dean drove fast and by late afternoon they reached their destination. The white church stood in plain view as did the people standing outside. It was a sea of black and a line of sleek, black vehicles lined the curb outside. The church was exactly as Dean had pictured; white, plain and simple.

They parked and exited the Impala in silence, Dean doing everything he could to keep himself from looking sideways. The looks from his brother had lasted since they'd left and it wasn't helping one bit. At spotting Rebecca they walked over together and she instantly noticed them.

At seeing her again, so close, Dean felt his mouth turn dry. Everything that had transpired came rushing back to him and Dean breathed deeply, trying to keep himself calm, hoping that there wasn't going to be a repeat.

"I'm sorry... about Layla," he said quietly, unable to give her direct eye contact. "This is my brother, Sam. He was here with me last time."

"Yes, I remember," she said, shaking his hand.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Rourke," said Sam as their contact broke.

"Thank you," she said with a sad smile, her eyes shining with tears. "It was good of you to make it on short notice. I know Layla would appreciate you both being here. The wake will be held at my house after. You're more than welcome to join us there too."

Both of them nodded and Rebecca made to turn away but Dean's voice brought her back, her eyes widening significantly as though worried about what he was going to say.

"I don't mean to overstep my boundaries but... it's only been three months and..."

"The doctors always told me to be prepared," said Rebecca stiffly, wringing her hands together tightly. "The six months given was the best scenario, not a guarantee."

She held her composure but Dean knew it was close to breaking point and the guilt constricted his breathing abilities. The glazing over of her eyes, the constant quiver of her lips, it was something he'd seen before.

The front doors of the church opened and Rebecca excused herself and approached the priest who stood at the top of the steps, dressed in a full white robe with a golden sash around his middle. He waved all inside and without much fuss everyone filed into the church, Dean and Sam being the last.

They both watched as people walked towards the front before stepping to the sides to make way behind them and one by one, they all soon took their seats but not before Dean frowned faintly and threw his brother a silent question. Sam leaned down a little to whisper without being heard.

"It's an open casket."

An indecipherable feeling passed through Dean, making him shiver involuntarily. The thought of seeing Layla lying there, cold and lifeless wasn't something he considered having to see. Of course he had seen his fair share of death and the bodies that were left behind but this was different; very different.

"Come on, Dean. We have to," said Sam, nudging Dean gently.

"I doubt it," muttered Dean under his breath but he followed all the same.

Getting in behind the others, they walked down the small aisle before they came to the coffin. It was white and decorated with flowers around the outer edge which were also all pale pink. At reaching it, Dean exhaled heavily and it caught in his throat.

Layla looked just like he remembered. Her blonde hair was loose, ending in soft curls that pooled elegantly around her shoulders. She wore a simple, white dress and her hands were neatly folded over her stomach and her skin was deathly pale which was the cause of Dean's shortness of breath. After a minute, they walked to the sides and returned to the back.

"Mrs. Rourke, would you like to come up and share your words?"

Rebecca nodded and stood at the front, pulling out a crinkled piece of paper from her jacket as she did so. As her hands shook, she settled them on the small podium she stood in front of and wiped a tear away as she began to speak.

"For a long time now, I've dreaded this day," said Rebecca unevenly. "I've had a lot of time to think of what I would say but now that the moment is here, I feel as though I've come up empty. Most of you know that Layla was my only child and I raised her alone. She was my miracle and the best thing that came from my life."

There was a pause as Rebecca wiped away two more tears that fell.

"I still clearly remember the day she was handed to me in the delivery room, her first words, her first steps, the first day of school, the first boyfriend which happened earlier than I expected and her graduation. I couldn't have been prouder of my little girl. She achieved more in her short life time than most people do when they live to be a hundred."

There was another short pause as Rebecca tried to regain her composure but it didn't seem to transpire.

"I'm sorry," she said, sniffing softly. "I appreciate you all being here today. I know Layla would be grateful too. She was the kindest person one could meet and I know there will never be another like her. She was my world and I will love her and miss her for the remaining days of my life."

Rebecca took her leave and sat down beside an elderly gentleman who took her hand in his. The priest took the spot she vacated and continued with the farewell. Dean and Sam stayed put for the remainder of the funeral, the former avoiding his brother's occasional glances.

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The funeral ended with a sad song and Dean and Sam were first to leave the church, not making a sound as they did so. But as they entered the parking lot and walked towards the Impala, a voice made them stop in their tracks.

"Are you sure you won't join us...?"

It was Dean that spoke, keeping his voice courteous. "No, but thank you. We're grateful to you for allowing us to pay our respects but I believe you should be with your family. We won't intrude any further."

Rebecca nodded slowly, showing that she understood. With a hesitant step forward, she cupped Dean's upper arm and squeezed gently. She said nothing else and walked back towards the family waiting for her. It had Dean feeling confused. Was she trying to comfort him?

"Are you sure, Dean?" asked Sam quietly.

Dean turned his back on the church and Sam followed, not repeating his question, knowing that the action said enough. Silently, Dean shook his head. The woman they'd encountered today was much different to the woman they'd met a few months ago and Dean knew the reason. What she had been fighting for was now gone and nothing would bring her back.

Together, Dean and Sam hopped into the Impala and with one last look at the church; they drove away, the silence and rain accompanying them.


End file.
